


If I Dare: The Secret Diary of Princess Sasha Vael

by logicpartyTOS



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Praise Kink, Submission, Submissive Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logicpartyTOS/pseuds/logicpartyTOS
Summary: Does he want to know all my secrets? He never asked, but here he is, learning them as I kneel before him. His warm fingers cup my chin and he tilts my head to meet his eyes. I can’t look at him, not like this, with my knees on the carpet and tears on my cheeks. He brushes them away with his thumb and commands me to look at him, so I do. I’ve tried disobeying him before but like now, my heart revolted and I did its bidding. I look at him and he smiles.“Good girl,” he says.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

I hadn't thought of it before today, what it means to be a princess, or a wife. He asked me to marry him and I said yes because I love him, and his own words still whisper to me when I close my eyes and remember them, _I will offer you no less than a prince._ He fulfilled that promise. Perhaps I should've considered the burdens I would carry, but is there anything more delicious or wonderful than waking up in the arms of the man you love? His strong chest, hard, warm against your cheek, his fingers draped lightly around your waist.

He's coming now and I drift in and out of sleep, listening to him move around our bedchamber. I open my eyes and watch him from beneath my lashes. His smooth skin is a bronze contrast against the white marble, and I have to keep myself from smiling.

He sits in a blue leather chair near the fireplace and lights a cheroot...he opens the Chant of Light and I can hardly contain the tingle that starts at the base of my neck and works its way down my spine, because after he’s read for the day, he’ll come and wake me up and my lessons will begin. I know what is expected of me, and our arrangement is such that I must agree properly to everything, which I did as he told me all that he wanted from me, what was expected of me as his wife.

I could have left then.

But how could I? My heart wept at the very idea of leaving, and in truth, the idea of belonging to him and him alone thrills me.

As I watch him turn a page, I think, how could I not want to give myself to this man so completely? How could I not want to be moulded and sculpted into his vision?

You might think me crazy, and though I cannot blame you, I must wonder why it’s crazy to want to be the most pleasing thing in the world to my husband.

Some might say it’s a matter of confidence, or lack of, but the way I see it is that I’m so confident in myself and who I am, that being shaped by him is no threat to me. In fact, it’s a gift.

He closes the Chant of Light and puts out his cheroot. I love the way it smells — like wood and spices. It gets in his hair and it’s the most wonderful thing to bury my nose in it and take a big sniff. I can always feel him smiling against my neck when I do this.

“Sasha,” he says, rubbing his fingers down my arm. "It’s time to wake up."

I pretend to be asleep and make a noncommittal sound.

Am I testing him? There is a part of me that wants to poke at his patience.

There’s a wooden chair beneath the window and I hear it scrape along the floor as he pulls it near, and it creaks when he sits down.

Again, he touches my arm, running one finger down until he reaches my elbow. “It’s already midmorning and I let you sleep too long already.” His brogue is especially thick right now, and I think it’s because he’s tired, but his day will be long and he was up very early.

For a few precious minutes all there is our breath, birds chirping, and I can hear the leaves rusting in the trees outside the balcony doors. The wind rolls in and blows strands of my hair, making my face tickle, and I fight to keep from scratching, but it becomes too much and I scratch my nose.

“Have you been awake this whole time?” he asks, a hard edge creeping into his brogue.

I open my eyes and look into his blue ones.

“I may have been.”

“Why didn’t you get up?”

What am I to say to him, that I wanted to see what would happen? Well, why don’t I then?

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and push my hair from my face. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

He nods, then bolts out of the chair and I flinch. But he’s only getting another cheroot. He lights it and goes to the balcony, facing away from me.

I must say something to fill the void. “At least that means I’m good and alert,” I say brightly.

His back, muscled from years of archery seems to call out for my touch. I slide to the floor and pad across the freezing marble to him. I press my hand to him and he stiffens, but doesn’t stop me. I wrap my arms around him and rub his stomach, his chest. I kiss him.

He turns around and looks down at me. I look up.

I am afraid.

The thrill I felt earlier is stronger than ever and it takes every ounce of me not to beg him to do all the things he’s threatened me with. I work to compose myself but surely he can see my reaction to him all over my face.

His cold blue eyes are locked with mine as he grabs my neck in one of his big hands and calmly, very calmly, he begins to squeeze, but not enough to take the air from me.

He just stands there smoking and squeezing and squeezing.

There’s never a second that I fear for my life, but I do fear I might explode of desire for him.

It’s then I realise that I’m moaning and my knees are about to collapse from beneath me.

He bends and kisses my nose.

Then he lets go.

I begin to cry, and I don’t know why I’m crying but the tears won’t leave me alone and he pulls me against him and whispers loving words to me and asks if I need anything. He presses his lips to my ear and says, “You’re such a good girl. I love you so much.” He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head. “Tell me what you need right now.”

You.

All of you, every bit of you, every single ounce of you.

I am greedy for you.

Now, I’m more certain than ever that this life that I have chosen is the path to my happiness, to that part of myself I kept tucked away for most of my life.

Was this his intent? Was he also testing me?

We have both passed.

Finally, with him, I am free.


	2. Chapter 2

I begin to have second thoughts but force myself to move. I climb the stairs to my husband’s office with trepidation. I should’ve put on my slippers, but I don’t want to go all the way back to our bedchamber for them. The blue carpet is very soft on my feet. I pull my silk robe tighter. It’s pink silk and my favourite one.

His door is in front of me.

Its handle is big, with a gold button in the centre. The door is thick and smells like cherries.

I turn the handle and slowly open it so as not to disrupt him too much.

I smile at him.

He doesn’t smile back.

“‘I’m sorry,” I say, turning to leave.

“Stay.”

I close the door and face him.

He goes back to his work and I begin to babble so uncontrollably about why I’m here, the ham I ate for dinner, his lack of sleep and my concern for him and it’s all tumbling out and I sound like a fool, but he doesn’t seem to know that I’m talking.

One would think I might stop, but I don’t, and as I talk I realise I’m angry about not seeing him all day. The least he could have done was have dinner with me. I continue on about how inconsiderate he was not to eat honey glazed ham and roasted vegetables with me and on and on I go.

Sebastian looks up at me and my eyes lock with his and I worry that I’ve disturbed him too much. My mouth goes dry and I try to swallow.

“I apologise for…” I start. “I…”

His boots hammer across the floor and I resist the urge to shrink away.

I think when he’s close, I’m not going to like what he says, but he doesn’t say anything.

He reaches behind me and pushes the gold button.

I’m watching him intently now, unsure of what’s coming and the familiar tingling thrill begins to work its way down the back of my neck and down my spine and into my legs.

He wraps his hand in my hair and yanks me into his chest and teases my lips with his. I feel the most intimate part of me respond and I try to kiss him back, but he doesn’t let me.

I hear his belt coming loose and I instinctively drop, and when I do, he grabs my arms and holds my wrists together in one of his big hands. I feel as though I’m starving and I greedily begin to lick and suck him, spit dripping down my chin and onto my toes. The feeling between my legs is so intense now that it becomes painful.

I pull to free a hand.

He grips tighter.

Maybe he doesn’t understand my need.

I try again.

He squeezes them together.

My mouth stretches wide as I take him into my throat as I work to satisfy him.

I hear his sharp intake of breath and he braces his free hand on the door above my head.

I am making him tremble, and breathe harder, and moan louder, and whimper when I pause in the sucking to lick his balls instead.

He shudders against me.

His cum is hot on my shoulders and down the front of me, tickling my nipples and spattering onto the floor at my feet and between my toes.

Abruptly, he lets go and I fall backwards, but he grabs me and puts his hand behind my head and I softly hit the door.

He closes his belt and takes off his shirt. He throws it over the mingling of spit and cum on the floor.

I look up at him and say, “Please.”

He crouches in front of me and spreads my legs, looking at the webbing of juices between my thighs. He rubs his hand up until he’s within reach and I scooch towards him.

“Greedy bitch.” Sebastian smirks, but I can see that he’s amused and in quite a good mood.

“I need it,” I whisper.

“I know,” he coos, teasing my hole with his finger.

He stops.


End file.
